Novels by Strawberry 🍓

Her Pov:The air in the room is thick with tension, a current I can’t escape, not even as I push through the sea of bodies in pursuit of Edward. The music pounds in my ears, the bass matching the erratic rhythm of my heartbeat. I barely register the murmured conversations and clinking of glasses around me; my focus is locked onto his broad frame as he weaves effortlessly through the crowd.He knows I’m following him. And he’s letting me.My heels click against the marble floor, my strides long and determined, but no matter how much I quicken my pace, he stays just out of reach—taunting me, luring me deeper into his game.Bastard.The moment he turns down a dimly lit corridor, my patience snaps. I quicken my pace, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. The moment I round the corner, I find him there—waiting. His back is against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit, one leg lazily crossed over the other. The golden glow of the sconces lining the corridor casts shadows

Her Pov:The world around us blurs into nothing. The music, the murmuring voices, and the glint of chandeliers overhead-all of it fades. There is only Edward, his hold on me suffocating, his presence an unshakable force.I should pull away. I should demand answers and force him to explain the weight behind his words. But I don't. Because deep down, beneath all my resistance, I know the truth.He is dangerous.And worse-I am drawn to it.Edward's fingers skim along the curve of my back, his touch featherlight yet commanding. He tilts his head, his stormy gaze burning into mine, daring me to look away first. But I won't. I refuse to.Instead, I square my shoulders and meet his challenge head-on. "What happens when I stop being relevant?"A slow, knowing smile curves his lips, but there is no warmth in it. Only a promise-a warning. "You won't."The certainty in his voice sends a shiver down my spine, but I swallow it down. He speaks as if my fate is already sealed, as if I am an inevitab

Her Pov:Alina....His past? His love? Then why am I here?If I were just a pawn, he could’ve erased me. Instead, he kept me.My eyes cut to the devil beside me.What does he want?The weight of the unspoken question lingered between us like a ghost, suffocating and unseen. My mind swirled with possibilities, and none of them settled well in my stomach.Edward’s grip on my waist tightened further, fingers pressing into my flesh as though reminding me who I belonged to—or who owned me. I wasn’t sure which was more accurate.Before I could collect my thoughts, another voice—deep, rich, and tinged with something almost melodic—cut through the thick tension.“Well, this is a surprise.”The conversation shifted as a man stepped forward, emerging from the shadows of the gathering.He was tall, lean yet powerful, with sharp features carved in a way that seemed both regal and dangerous. Midnight-black hair fell carelessly over his forehead, a striking contrast to the ice-blue eyes that settle

Her Pov: I bite my lips as I almost feel my anger pouring out as he pulls out his fingers just before my release, leaving me in distress and restlessness. I look at him, shooting daggers to him, but that only widens the smirk on his face. And I might have to be sick in the head to find him fascinating at the moment as a little light from outside falls on his face. His dark hair styled in a beautiful way as a hair strand fell loose on his piercing grey eyes, the same grey eyes that were so deep..The little light created a shadow on his face making his cheekbones higher and sharper and his neatly trimmed jaw appear sharper than a fucking machatte. So alluring with his enchanting scent of wildflowers.... No... No... What the fuck am I thinking? It .. It has to be the hormones that this bastard left unsatisfied.. Yeah, it has to be it.. I can't be that desperate to find him appealing. Just as I managed to tear my gaze away from him, the car jerked to a sudden halt, sending me forward.

His Pov:I wait at the downstairs as I didn't have the courage to go upstairs. I still couldn't forget the way she cut the call off on me or the way she talked with me. She needs to be tamed, and I fear I would do in right there and then without caring about the party if I am in the room with her.The party is important for both of us. Pathan threw the party for us, not because he's happy with us being a couple, but because he's upset, to be precise, he hates that I married her. A girl with no family background, especially with no Russian roots. It took me years to win their trust and to be the third highest most powerful member of the Bratva even after my dad being one of them.It's not that I didn't know how pathan would react. But I simply just didn't care. All I cared about was making her mine. Claiming Liana as mine, even if that meant putting everything at stake for her. All the efforts of the past 10 to 12 years. I still need the bratva, so I do need to play my role carefully.

Her Pov:The rest of my day passed with me losing myself in the thoughts of what Elize said. Bratva... What does he do for the Bratva for him to be so higher up that even the police fear him? I don't have a phone as he took mine long ago to search for any information. I asked for news papers in case they have some news on it that can provide me with any information, but the mansions don't take newspapers, which is what the young maid told me.It was 5 pm of the evening as I was lying on my bed trying to sleep before he came. I don't want to face him and his twisted intentions again when there's a knock on the door. At first, I was solent thinking it had to be Edward, but then, no way in hell he would knock on the door before entering the room. So I tell the person on the door to come in as I sit up on the bed. It's elite with a phone in her hand as she rushes to me. "It is sir on call." And she hands it over to me before she leaves me in alone in the room with the phone. Hesitantly,

Her Pov:The sun sinks lower over the Seine, casting molten gold across the water, painting the ripples with liquid fire. The city hums around us—soft laughter from distant lovers drifting through the air, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the stone embankment, the whisper of the wind as it tangles through my dress.Paris feels like a dream, weightless and unreal, but Leonardo beside me is more vivid than anything else.He moves with his usual silent grace, his presence coiled and restrained, like a predator choosing patience over pursuit. The evening glow sharpens the angles of his face and deepens the shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look like something sculpted from darkness itself. He is breathtaking, but never soft—never safe.A sudden gust of wind sweeps in, lifting the hem of my dress, sending a shiver dancing up my spine. Before I can react, warmth engulfs me. Leonardo moves with a quiet swiftness that steals the breath from my lungs, pressing against my back, h

Her Pov:I swallow hard, looking away from him for a second, trying to gather my thoughts. “Is that it?” I finally ask, my voice barely a whisper. The question lingers, hanging between us, almost absurd in its simplicity.“No,” he says softly, his voice barely louder than the river’s murmur. “There’s more to be freed than just the fish.”I glance up at him, but his expression remains unreadable, as always. But something in the way he looks at me makes my breath hitch, like he’s seeing through every wall I’ve built.He steps closer, and I feel the heat of his presence before I even see him fully. The air between us thickens as though the world is holding its breath. I want to speak, to ask him everything, but my throat tightens, the words sticking in my chest. I stand there, frozen in place, as his gaze holds me captive, just as much as he claims to have done to the fish."They’re just like me..." he whispers, the words soft but piercing, making my chest tighten. His eyes are intense,

Her Pov:Paris stretches endlessly beyond the car window, a blur of elegant streets and towering architecture, but none of it holds my attention. All I see is him—Leonardo, sitting beside me in the backseat, his presence heavy, commanding. He hasn’t spoken much since we left, and I can’t tell if the silence between us is suffocating or intoxicating. Maybe both. His fingers tap lightly against his knee, his eyes staring straight ahead, but I know he’s aware of every movement I make. Every breath.The ride stretches on for hours, the city fading into quieter roads, then almost nothingness. I shift uncomfortably, feeling the slight ache still lingering in my body, a reminder of last night—of him.Heat curls under my skin at the memory, but I push it away. He hasn’t looked at me the same way since this morning, and I hate how that unsettles me. Like I’m standing on uneven ground, waiting for him to either pull me in or push me away.His two men sit in the front, quiet as ever, focused on

Her Pov:When I wake up, he’s nowhere to be seen. The bed is cold beside me, as if he had left hours ago, yet the air still carries the ghost of his presence.Last night, he was all over me. When I drifted into sleep, it was with his scent wrapped around me, his breath mingling with mine, his body pressing down on me in a way that made me feel utterly possessed. Now, with the morning light streaming through the curtains, I feel the stark emptiness of his absence. My fingers brush over the sheets, still slightly wrinkled from where his hands had gripped me, from where his body had pinned me down as he took me, as he claimed me.A sharp ache pulses between my legs, a reminder of just how relentless he was. His thrusts had been merciless, as if he wasn’t just trying to claim my body but my very soul. As if the mere act of having me wasn’t enough—he needed to carve his presence into my skin, into my bones, into the deepest recesses of my mind. And what’s worse? I had wanted it. I needed i

***15 Years ago****His POV:When my eyes cracked open, it felt like waking from death itself.The ceiling above me swayed, blurry and unfamiliar, though I’ve stared at it a thousand times. For a moment, I couldn’t even remember where I was—only the weight of my limbs, the stickiness of blood dried across my skin, and the stinging throb radiating from every corner of my body. My breath came out jagged, uneven, as if my lungs had forgotten how to pull in air.I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Hours? Days? I can’t tell. Sleep doesn’t feel like sleep anymore. It feels like falling into some black hole and clawing my way back up every time, just to fall again.My body—my entire being—felt like it wasn’t mine anymore.My skin prickled and burned, covered in sweat, filth, and blood. When I shifted, a sharp, tearing sensation ripped through my back and arms. I sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, forcing my eyes to move, to look down.Shards of glass.Tiny, jagged pieces embedded in

***15 years ago***His Pov:It’s been three days since my mother pushed me down the stairs.Three days since I felt my body crash against every hard step, bones snapping, skull cracking, everything blurring into nothingness before I blacked out.My right hand is fractured. They had to wrap it in plaster, sling it from my neck like a reminder of how breakable I really am. My head is bandaged too—tight and rough around my skull—covering the deep wound above my eyebrow where they stitched me back together. Seven stitches. I counted them when I woke up, fingers trembling as I traced the skin around them, wondering why I still felt so numb.I don’t even know how I survived.If David hadn’t done something… if he hadn’t begged or screamed for help… I would’ve bled out right there at the bottom of those stairs, and no one would’ve noticed until I started to rot.From the bits and pieces he’s let slip, I think he ran to the neighbours, knocked on their doors in the middle of the night, sobbing